The Woman in Flames
by Im-In-A-Shower
Summary: This is just a quick one shot based off of the character Mary Winchester, but not actually a 'Supernatural' story, but please read as it is my first fic and i'm curious to see if anyone actually likes my writing. Rated T just to be safe.


The Woman in Flames

The Woman in Flames had seen decades fly by, unseen, observing while hidden in the corners. Only ever seen at night by the children she watches over, the pets that ignore her and by the few perceptive adults that have passed through Her property, lived in Her home, terrified by the odd glimpses of flames coming from Her.

The Woman in Flames watched as Her home was brought back to its former glory, built back up from its ashes by a farmer and his wife, unaware of the shambled homes' horrific history. She made sure that the couple lived long and plentiful lives, holding the Reaper at bay.

She watched as a soldier who had seen too much became a drunkard, and She made no move to stop Death from claiming him in the form of a loose wrought iron fence. It was a kindness from his suffering, from the memories and also the several ruptured organs from impaling himself on the fence. She watched as Death later claimed his widowed wife, alone and miserable in her existence.

The current family living in Her careful watch seemed ordinary enough from the outside viewer, a happily married couple with a young daughter, but She saw all. She saw the wife's despair, the fear of her husband, and the fear for her daughter's life. The Woman in Flames saw the husband's vile behaviours, habits, and the violence he holds to his wife. She saw the child's confusion, upset from the harm given to her mother.

The Woman in Flames began to grow angry. Three months after the family had moved into Her home, the husband came home smelling of the alcohol and peanuts he had consumed at the local bar. The wife became fearful; making sure her daughter was in bed, safe in her room. The wife did not come out of this night unscathed. The daughter became the Woman's charge while the wife was in hospital, making sure the husband never laid a finger on the little girl. The husband never knew why he suddenly became afraid of fire.

After a year of living in the neighbourhood, people began to realise that their marriage was abusive. They avoided the couple and would take in the daughter whenever they could, protecting her from her abusive father. She was a beautiful young girl, with hair the colour of corn silk, long and smooth, her eyes a deep, soul-piercing blue. Even when her face was mottled with purple bruises, her body verging on malnourished, she inspired awe in her friends and neighbours.

It was a moonless night, when everything went wrong. The stars were near invisible from the light pollution from the town's houses and street lamps. The Woman in Flames was watching the little girl try to see the constellations through the street lights, when She heard him coming up the stairs. She could hear the wife protesting, before She heard muffled thumping. She grew angry, hearing the sounds of abuse, coming to the realisation that the wife had been pushed down the stairs.

The father burst into the daughters' room, yelling obscenities at her, striking her down. The Woman in Flames could no longer see reality. She saw Her husband, in a drunken rage.

That was enough to spur Her into action. She lunged forward, snapping out of her reverie, burning the flesh of the little girl's father. He saw Her, with a look of pure terror in his eyes, he turned to run out the door, only to find Her in his way.

The Woman in Flames stood there, growling at the man who would beat his daughter. She watched him, saw the pain in his eyes from the red, angry welts She had put on this arm and side, suddenly a memory flashed behind Her eyes, Her husband throwing Her son in the fireplace, beating Her with an iron poker, burning red hot. She smiled at the man, not a pleasant smile, but one that would give you chills, making him realise his mistake.

She put her hand gently to his cheek, as if caressing him, but he screamed in agony as the skin on his face burned and melted. The smell of burning flesh spurred the little girl into action, as she ran past the Woman in Flames, to her mother still lying at the bottom of the stairs. The wife heard the screams and scrambled out of the house with her daughter in tow as the fire of The Woman's rage tore through the house, Her home, turning it to ash once again.

After the inferno was quenched, the young fireman glanced through the haze of smoke, seeing a fiery figure with tattered hair, Her eyes glowing red. He shook it off as his imagination.

The Woman in Flames remained. Waiting.


End file.
